


Lack of Endowment

by annabeth_at_the_helm



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Cock Worship, Hawkeye is insecure about his dick size, Kinktober 2018, M/M, Small Penis, Smut, blowjob, piercintyre - Freeform, woo I'm late posting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 13:48:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16265465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabeth_at_the_helm/pseuds/annabeth_at_the_helm
Summary: Now that Hawkeye has seen Trapper naked and aroused, he's feeling a little insecure about himself. Trapper shows him he has nothing to worry about.





	Lack of Endowment

"Hawkeye, you've been actin' strange ever since we started fucking." Trapper hung up a pair of wet socks on the line. Hawkeye was suddenly very interested in his nudist volleyball magazine.

"Oh? Have I?" he asked neutrally, flipping the page. Trapper hung up the last sock. He came over and sat down, his weight somehow so familiar yet strangely new as he took up space on Hawkeye's bunk.

"That magazine is out of date, Hawk." Trapper leaned against him, his face inches from Hawkeye's own, his winter-cold breath coming out in a cloud that merged with Hawkeye's breath in a way that seemed suddenly too intimate.

"They're all out of date by the time I get them," he remarked, and Trapper huffed out a laugh.

"Yeah, but those gals might be too old to be runnin' around nude anymore, it's so out of date. What's eatin' you?"

Hawkeye was getting the impression that Trapper wasn't likely to let the matter drop. He tossed the magazine onto the floor.

"Pour me a drink?" he asked, fluttering his eyelashes. He probably didn't need to play the coquette with Trap, they often poured each other's drinks, but he was hoping to distract him. The blue eyes Trapper thought were so pretty might just do the trick.

"If gettin' you drunk will get the truth outta you, sure," Trapper said. Maybe he was immune to the blue eyes then. Hawkeye was going to have to think fast—something he was good at, sure, but not letting on what was really bothering him might be a trick, even for him. He couldn't risk hurting Trapper's feelings, for one thing. Or if not that, then making the straight-turned-questioning guy question his choices even more.

Hawkeye had always liked men, but he liked women okay too, and in the army he had to put up a brave front. So they chased nurses together. But while Hawkeye was a confirmed bachelor—Erika aside—Trap was married. Huh. Maybe that would work.

Trap brought the martini glass over and Hawkeye took it; they saluted and both drank. Trap made a face that was half disgust and half pleasure and Hawkeye was pretty sure the expression was mirrored on his face too.

"It's just that you're married, Trap," he began, trying to clear his eyes of any possible indicator that he was lying. He let himself think about how true it was, how Trap was gonna go back to Boston and his wife and daughters, and figured that ought to clear any deception. "I mean, I'm all for more sex, especially with you, but you know this is a finite situation. Unlike what Frank wants, wars do not last forever. Thank heaven." He rolled his eyes and drank more of the dry, fifteen-minute-year-old gin.

"Nah," Trapper said. "It's more than that. If you were worried about my wife, Hawk, you wouldna kissed me in the supply tent. You knew what you were up to, and up against."

"Yeah," Hawkeye said with a grin, "a washed up boxer who could still have caved in my nose. Which I'm very fond of, by the way." He wrinkled it in demonstration. "It's such a cute nose."

Fuck. He was getting close to the real issue, now. Not his nose, but speaking of features… he had to hope Trapper hadn't noticed the slip-up. Though that was probably wishful thinking: Trapper and he had the same thoughts, the same ideas. Trap knew how he thought.

"It is very cute," Trap agreed, swallowing the last of his gin and leaning over to pour more. "But I don't think that's it, either. You had to know I wouldna punched you. I'm not generally violent."

"Men act strangely when kissed by other men," Hawkeye said pertly. "They seem to find it troubling. But not you. Why is that, I wonder?"

"It's a puzzle," Trapper agreed. "Normally I don' think I woulda enjoyed that much, but… I dunno, Hawk. You do have a certain charm." Trapper drank again. Hawkeye followed his example and finished off his glass. It was getting dark beyond the raised tent flaps.

"C'mere," he said to Trapper. The lights from the compound wouldn't penetrate enough to out them even if someone walked by. He lifted up the corner of his blanket. Trapper smiled, that adorable overbite he had, and Hawkeye ruthlessly squashed any sort of tender feelings—he wouldn't get invested in this. He couldn't. It wasn't a complete fabrication that he worried about what would become of him—of them—when the war ended and they went home.

"That's another thing," Trap said, even as he stood up a little unsteadily. "You always wantin' to do it in the dark. Whatsamatter, Hawk? You shy? I never see you actin' shy with the nurses."

Oh boy. That was a loaded pistol right there. He never… well. He wasn't going to tell Trapper, but the truth of the matter was, he wasn't shy, not exactly—just embarrassed. A bit. Because he'd seen Trapper's cock by now when it was raging hard and he just couldn't compare.

The nurses hadn't complained before, but he'd never let them see him before he was hard, and anyway, he rarely even wanted to take things that far. But now he couldn't bring himself to expose himself to them, even if they were willing. And Trapper didn't know it, but it was all his fault.

Trapper and his—fuck, it had to be at least nine inches! Sure, Hawkeye had known Trapper was blessed—they showered together, got dressed in the same tent—but it wasn't like he'd risked a lot of peeks at it, and until recently, he hadn't known just what it was to see it, in person, close to his face, close enough to touch, and fully aroused. Oh fuck no. Hawkeye was not—he was just going to keep hiding in the dark.

"No," he said shortly. "I'm not shy." _Just worthless when it comes to being well-endowed, like you,_ he thought miserably. "I want to kiss you goodnight."

Trapper was big and strong and tall, with gorgeous biceps and knees that drove him wild. Trap was ideal in every way.

His cock was intimidating, and Hawkeye couldn't afford to let him know it. He reached up, hand a breath away from Trap's face when Trap suddenly dodged, bending down to pick up the magazine Hawkeye had dropped.

Hawkeye had the briefest instant to panic when the Swamp door clapped open and closed.

"Hi, Frank," Trapper said, handing Hawkeye the magazine. Thank fuck he'd thrown it down there earlier, to give something for Trapper to do to cover what was a near-disastrous miss.

"Hello, Frank," Hawkeye chimed in. Frank whipped off his white coat, hung it from a nail, and dropped down onto his cot with a thump. He began to unlace his boots.

"There's no need to be nasty," he snapped, and Hawkeye exchanged a grin with Trapper. But now he wouldn't get his goodnight kiss. Damn Frank Burns and his infernal timing.

"Goodnight, Frank," Trap said in a lilting tone, the teasing note there for all to hear. It wasn't always a pleasant ring in his voice, but he never used it on Hawkeye. Not in the same way.

"Maybe for me," Frank said smugly, "but you, mister smartypants, have post-op duty in an hour, McIntyre."

"What he said," Hawkeye said. Frank scowled when he realized Hawkeye was referring to Trapper. "I'm going to sleep the sleep of the blameless, like a baby," he added, and Trapper grabbed one of his wet socks off the line and swatted him in the face with it.

"Not the face! Not with one of your stinky socks!" Hawkeye yelled, and Frank gave them both a tight, lipless grin. Little did Frank know just how close he and Trapper had gotten. How much their teasing hid and concealed now. Or how much Hawkeye knew his eyes revealed when he met Trapper's green-brown ones, which he now had occasion to know were a deep golden with green flecks when they got close enough to kiss.

Trapper laughed.

"I'll see ya in the mornin', Hawk. Don't forget what I said."

"Meet you at your smoking break," Hawkeye whispered as Trap threw on his own white coat and strode past his bunk. But minutes after Trapper left, Hawkeye was asleep and snoring—and missed his rendezvous.

++

"You didn' come an' see me when I had my smoke break," Trapper said, as he reached for the soap. Hawkeye pulled the chain to turn on the spray, and wished there was more separating them than just some wooden boards. It wasn't the first shower they'd taken together. He knew it wouldn't be the last. He was even pretty sure that Trap had no reason to peek—what did he need to look at Hawkeye naked for?

But Hawkeye found himself wishing he could just casually cover his lack of endowment with his hand. But he couldn't, because that would be more obvious than just standing there as naturally as he could project. Trap was more likely to notice if he drew attention to himself, Hawkeye knew that—there was a reason he'd graduated med school. He even understood, objectively, that men weren't all going to be cut from the same design, and that just because his cock wasn't as large as Trap's shouldn't make him feel inferior.

Yeah, intellectually he knew that, but come on. He still felt insecure about it, even though Trapper had given no indication that he should. Then again, it wasn't so bad when he was hard, and thus far they'd messed around in the dark and Hawkeye hadn't let Trapper touch him until he was fully ready to go. He wondered if Trap realized that.

Probably. After all, Trap had graduated med school, too.

"I meant to wake up, but the North Koreans weren't kind enough to shell us at the right time," Hawkeye said, accepting the soap Trapper handed over and beginning to lather his chest. The problem with worrying about Trap's temptation to peek was that it was wreaking havoc with his own desire to peek. As if getting one more look at Trapper would somehow help.

"Too bad," Trap said, "coulda skipped the cigar and sneaked off to the supply tent for ten minutes. I'da rather had somethin' else in my mouth, maybe."

Hawkeye was really hoping—

"Like your tongue," Trapper finished before Hawkeye could completely freak out. He dragged down on the chain and began to rinse his chest and Hawkeye had to avert his eyes; he wanted to stare at all that broad muscle, the definite tone that Trap possessed and Hawkeye could only dream of.

"Not too loud," Hawkeye said, but he wasn't really paying attention to his words as much on whether, when Trap glanced over, he was watching Hawkeye's face or looking down into the shower stall. Fuck. Was he peeking?

It made Hawkeye want to just, ever so casually, cast his eyes towards Trapper. Just to see. Was he hard?

"Ya know, Hawk," Trap said as he rinsed, "you didn' tell me what was eatin' you up. I asked, you remember? But you so conveniently fell asleep."

"I was so exhausted my eyelids were suing for damages," Hawkeye quipped. The joke wasn't funny, but if it could divert Trapper—

"We had a light load in OR yesterday," Trapper said. "You fuck a nurse?"

Would Trapper be jealous if he had? But how to tell Trapper that the nurses were of no interest to him now, not now that he had Trap in his bed? Well, on his cot. Whatever.

"Nah," Hawkeye murmured, ducking his head under the water. He was about to fumble for the soap when warm, strong hands were in his hair, scratching at his scalp as the delicate surgeon's fingers worked the lather in.

Hawkeye was suddenly less concerned about Trapper seeing his cock, because that heavenly feeling of having his hair washed for him had given him a pretty respectable boner. Now he _really_ wanted to know if Trap was hard. But how could he find out? He was captive under the water till Trap rinsed all the soap out.

"I can' get over it," Trap mumbled close to his ear. "I never wanted a guy before, but there's somethin' about you, Hawk. I wish I could put my finger on what it is."

"It's my natural good looks and charm," Hawkeye said, as Trap ran his fingers through his wet hair one more time, then the water stopped pouring down over his head. He leaned back and opened his eyes.

Those green flecks glittered in Trap's eyes, and oh, it was stupid, but just for a second, Trap stole a kiss, letting their mouths meet and press softly together. It was over in a split second. It was almost like it had never even happened—but the pupils in Trap's beautiful eyes were wide, so wide. His chest was heaving up and down with his erratic breath.

And Hawkeye knew if he looked down now, Trapper would be hard, cock stiff and proud—and something to be proud of. Hawkeye's wilted a little at the thought, and he turned away quickly, stepping out of the shower and pulling a towel around his waist.

"Hey," Trapper said, and Hawkeye felt his shoulders tense. What would he say? And why was Hawkeye so worried about it?

"Hey yourself," Hawkeye replied. He thrust his arms into his red robe, trying to ignore the cold drip of his hair onto his neck and down his spine. "Goddamn, it isn't even full winter yet and it's so cold."

"Meet ya in the supply tent and warm ya up?" Trap asked, and Hawkeye thought, _yes, maybe I_ have _diverted him_.

"It's daylight, Trap," he said, directing a quick look over his shoulder. Trapper was tucking the end of his towel into the rest of the towel, but his cock was an absolute beast against the material, outlined obscenely. "You have to do something about that," he added somewhat unnecessarily.

Trap looked down, then back at Hawkeye as Hawkeye turned around. "You volunteerin'?"

"I'm not letting you fuck my ass in daylight in the shower tent," Hawkeye said, laughing. "If I were you, I'd get back under the cold water for a bit. Or, wait—" he threw open the shower tent door, knowing he was obstructing the view of Trapper, and the cold, frozen air bit into every exposed inch of skin.

"Oh, you _didn'_!" Trapper yelled, and then a very solid, wet body was pressed up against his back, shivering. "Hand me my robe, you miscreant. I don' have one problem but now I have another! I'm freezin' my nuts off!"

"Helped you out, didn't I?" Hawkeye said smugly. He wanted to lean into that clean, sweet-smelling hard body—but of course he couldn't, so he walked briskly into the compound, knowing Trapper would follow, and wondering just what his revenge was going to be for freezing out his hard-on.

++

Trapper turned the light on. That was his revenge.

They were lying on Hawkeye's cot, the tent flaps pulled down, Frank in post-op and the camp was quiet. Technically, Hawkeye was lying on the cot, naked, with Trap above him in the dark, his arms braced around Hawkeye's head and his knees on the bunk bracketing Hawkeye's thighs. He was in the process of raising his knees to his chest, to give Trapper unequivocal access to that part of him that throbbed and hungered for Trapper's fingers, his cock.

Hawkeye was hard, and every so often Trap would caress him, but it was so dark, and surely it would be worse in the light, so Hawkeye tried to relax and not think about his inadequacy. It was difficult, though.

He reached down and palmed Trap's hard, hot length—and it was long, fuck, and thick—and Trapper groaned, his head falling back for a moment, leaving his neck exposed. Hawkeye wanted to bite it, but of course he couldn't manage that around his up-raised knees, so he had to settle for staring longingly at it. And then Trapper whispered,

"So, Hawk, why d'we always have to fuck in the dark?" Before Hawkeye could respond, before he could formulate a joke or something flippant to put Trapper off, Trap switched the light on.

Hawkeye, surprised and unprepared, laid there on the cot, his below-average cock suddenly on display in the light, and he quickly tried, instinctively, to cover himself—and of course, Trap noticed.

"Hey," he said, capturing Hawkeye's wrist and pulling his arm back. "I wanna see."

"I don't—" God, he sounded pathetic! No ready joke, just a hot flush of embarrassment on his face. "Turn the light off, Trap."

"I don' think so. Hawk… tell me what's wrong."

"Well," he said, gesturing vaguely toward Trapper's groin, "how can I compare to _that_?"

"You—you're seriously worried about dick size? Hawk, I'm fuckin' ya 'cause I like to.. Includin' your dick."

As if to prove his point, Trap wrapped a hand around Hawkeye's cock. His hands were so big, Hawkeye imagined his cock completely disappearing. He winced, and turned his face, but Trap's other hand was there, capturing his cheek, pulling him back, looking him in the eye. The lights sparked off the green glints in Trap's eyes and Hawkeye swallowed.

"You don' have to compare yourself to me, Hawk. It isn' a contest. We're just different, is all. And I happen to like you just as you are."

Hawkeye was silent. He literally couldn't think of a single thing to say; but Trap didn't seem to mind. He smiled, crooked flash of teeth, and spread Hawkeye's thighs, directing him to balance his feet on the floor. Then he slid down Hawkeye's body, till his face was in Hawkeye's groin, and oh-so-slowly, until the anticipation was killing Hawkeye, he laid a soft closed-mouth kiss on the crown of Hawkeye's cock.

"I love the shape of you," he murmured, using his hand to map out the contours of Hawkeye's dick. He pressed more kisses to the head, tongue darting out to lap up a droplet of pearlescent precome. "The size… Hawk, for me you're perfect." He ran his fingers up and down Hawkeye's length, almost wonderingly as he did it, his pretty, pretty hazel eyes focused entirely on Hawkeye. Hawkeye knew he was red in the face, knew that he was embarrassed, but he couldn't push Trap away.

He couldn't look away, either, as Trap licked a wavering line up the shaft of his cock. He finished by pursing his lips over the slit, so that his tongue could lick at the tiny opening, and then, after swirling his tongue around the head so that it was damp, he pulled back and blew his hot, moist breath over the wetness left behind.

"I love your smell, Hawk, and this little beauty mark you have right… here…" Trap kissed a spot on his cock, and Hawkeye trembled, legs shaking, body going hot all over with a flush of arousal this time, instead of embarrassment. Trapper kissed him, up and down, scraping the tender flesh gently with his fingernails, then licking the places he'd kissed.

He seemed to linger on parts of Hawkeye's cock forever, kissing and licking and mouthing over the satiny hard arousal. He worked Hawkeye up to a fever pitch, then would draw back, returning to softly making love—for he was making love to Hawkeye's embarrassingly small cock, and seemed to love every second of it—to it, until finally he opened his mouth and took Hawkeye inside.

He held him there, for a moment, throbbing on his tongue, and Hawkeye quivered, his body wound so taut—and Trap licked his way up until he let his cock pop from between his lips.

"Hawk," he said, quiet, his breath tickling Hawkeye's cock into unbearable arousal, "I can' even fit it in my mouth. An' you're so worried. You got nothin' to be worried about."

And then he ducked his head down again, and filled his mouth with Hawkeye's cock. His hand went around the base of it, and put truth to his words: Hawkeye was sizeable enough that Trapper couldn't take all of it.

The idea was so heady, the sensation of Trapper's mouth so overwhelming, that he barely had time to grab a fistful of those beautiful blonde curls and tug in warning, offering Trap the chance to draw back—but he didn't; he took it like a champ, throat working around the head of Hawkeye's cock as he swallowed Hawkeye's release.

He finally pulled off, and wiped his lips with the back of his hand; a string of come sparkled for a moment in the light before he wiped it away on the blanket. He grinned, his full, ebullient grin, the one that made Hawkeye melt like chocolate in the sun, and said,

"I love all of you, Hawk. You can' get rid of me now."

"Let me return the favor," Hawkeye said, because he loved choking on cock, especially one as large and gorgeous as Trapper's, but Trap shook his head.

"No, this was for you. Try to remember, alright? I'm never gonna turn you down."

His hand was large and warm on Hawkeye's hip, and Hawkeye reached for the light.

"Leave it on," Trap said. "I jus' wanna look at ya awhile." And under his scrutiny of Hawkeye's cock, he began to swell and harden again. "Look at that. I love watchin' you get hard. So swollen. So pretty." He stroked his thumb over Hawkeye's hipbone and Hawkeye could feel Trap's lingering gaze causing his dick to fill with blood.

"It's small," he ventured, but Trap shook his head.

"But jus' look at that beauty grow," he said. "Nah, Hawk, ya got nothin' to worry about."

Maybe it wasn't so bad after all, if Trap liked it. Hawkeye might be able to get behind that.

And he knew Trapper's enthusiasm hadn't been feigned.

END.


End file.
